


The Spaces We Share

by natcat5



Series: Dark Month 2015 [18]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse)
Genre: Curses, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natcat5/pseuds/natcat5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everyone’s going to kill each other within like, another hour,” Gwen says, sounding weirdly gleeful. “This full house thing is hilarious.” </p><p>Peter's sure if he thinks about it a little more, he'll start to think that being trapped in a house with five other teens isn't the worse thing in the world.<br/>Just...give him some time to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spaces We Share

**Author's Note:**

> My favourite part of Ultimate Spiderman is that point when Peter's house basically became 'Aunt May's home for displaced teenage superheroes'. 
> 
> 100% inspired by
> 
> ## these
> 
> ## pictures
> 
>  
> 
>  

As far as curses go, it could definitely be worse.

…

Maybe if Peter keeps telling himself that, it will eventually become true.

He’s stretched out on the couch, with Mary Jane sitting at his feet, looking frustrated, glasses slipping down her nose. Gwen is on the floor in front of them, arms resting on her knees and face fixed in an expression of keen exasperation. In the kitchen, they can hear Bobby and Kitty rattling about, arguing maybe, attempting to find the right frying pan to cook with, potentially. Something may end up iced over. But at least Johnny’s not there, too. The kitchen may not have survived _that_ encounter. Johnny’s in the washroom, fixing his hair or admiring his reflection or despairing over his reflection, seeing as the dyed-black hair is still a thing. It could be any or all of the above, really.

It’s a full house. The fullest of houses. It might be driving Peter a little bonkers. Aunt May isn’t home, he’s told her to stay away until Fury can get everything fixed and sorted. Or until Sue can. Or the X-men. Or _someone._

Something crashes to the floor in the kitchen, Kitty utters a short expletive, loudly, and in another moment Bobby comes slinking into the living room, shoulders hunched and one hand rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“Popcorn for dinner sounds good, right?” he asks sheepishly, “May have iced over the stir fry beyond all conceivable repair.”  

Gwen groans, hanging her head down, and Mary Jane turns to look at Peter, eyes narrowed.

“I told you not to leave them alone in there,” she accuses, and he tries not to scowl. She did tell him. He replied that being in a kitchen caught between an irritated Kitty and a restless Bobby was not his idea of a good time. She said he’d regret it. He does, but he’s not going to do the mature thing and admit that she was right. _That_ would be ridiculous.

Johnny reappears. His hair is still strikingly black, and he seams very aware of the fact, with the way he keeps running his fingers through it. But there’s an easy smile on his face, as he leans in the doorframe of the living room, looking roguish and smug. Peter resists the urge to flip him off. Barely.

“Heard something needs defrosting?” he asks, grinning crookedly. Bobby looks a little sullen. Mary Jane looks alarmed. Gwen looks at Peter, one eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘and how are you going to handle _this,_ webhead?’

Peter immediately makes an X with his arms, shaking his head furiously. Nope. Nada. Not happening in this reality.

“A frozen kitchen is slightly more manageable than a kitchen on fire,” he says, “Johnny, and I mean this from the deepest depths of my heart, if you so much as light your pinkie on fire in there, I’m bleaching your hair and dying it purple.”

Johnny scowls, and Gwen snickers. Bobby looks a little pleased. Mary Jane continues to look exasperated.

“I’m serious,” Peter continues, “This spell or whatever is trapping us in the house. What if you set everything on fire and we _literally_ can’t escape?”

“We haven’t tried burning a hole through the wall yet,” mutters Johnny, still scowling, “So how you even-,”

“If you do, I’ll web you to the top of the Empire State in nothing but your underwear,” Peter threatens seriously, “Aunt May and I _just_ moved here. Seriously! No flames!”

“Also,” Mary Jane points out, “There’s a chance that whatever’s cursing us is psychic in nature, or a forcefield like your sister’s. So we might be trapped in this space, even if the walls are gone.”

Peter points to Mary Jane in a gesture of agreement, and Bobby joins him. Johnny’s scowl deepens.

Gwen gets to her feet and leans on Johnny’s shoulder smiling reaffirmingly.

“Don’t let them get on your case,” she says with a wink, “The second we’re out of here, we’ll throw a huge bonfire and torch all their stuff.”

Mary Jane and Peter both make noises of protest. Johnny looks at her like she’s hung the moon in the sky.

“Promise?” he asks, protruding his bottom lip in an over-exaggerated pout.

“Gwen, what the hell?” asks Mary Jane, arms folded across her chest.

“Hey, everyone here but me and Peter are freeloaders, your stuff’s fair game.” Gwen retorts, “And Johnny’s fun, so he gets a pass. Also, _he_ doesn’t steal my clothes.”

Mary Jane’s cheeks colour rapidly. “I _borrowed_ your shirt because I don’t have any of my own! We can’t afford anyone else getting stuck in here so I-,”

“Pete, you don’t care if we borrow your clothes, right?” Johnny asks, talking around the girls.

“I really, really do,” Peter deadpans, “So so much. The number of clothes I like with charred holes in them amounts to zero.”

“Even that striped shirt with the funky blue collar?” Johnny asks, an awkward half-smile on his face that has all kinds of alarm bells going off in Peter’s head.

“Oh no, Torch,” he says, hopping to his feet, “You did _not-,_ ”

“Look, I’m just saying,” Gwen huffs, tossing her hair, “One, _asking_ isn’t a crime. Two, you’re over here enough I’m pretty sure Peter has a drawer full of your stuff already. Three-,”

“Oh my gosh, he does _not._ All I leave are like, scrunchies and my glasses cleaner! Why are you so-,”

“Johnny Storm, I am _seriously_ like three seconds away from sticking you to the ceiling and leaving you there for the rest of _ever._ Stay out of my closet! I like my clothes un-barbequed!”

“Look Webs, not all of us can go around shirtless and have it not be a thing, like some people I can mention-,”

Bobby looks sharply at Johnny, with the expression of someone who really, really does not want to be dragged into something they think they’re inevitably going to be dragged into.

It’s at that moment that Kitty walks into the room, hands on hips and sour expression on her face.

“So, dinner’s going to be cereal, and maybe some jam,” she says darkly. “Also, there’s going to be a skating rink where the floor should be for the foreseeable future.”

Johnny perks up, a look of ‘I can make the foreseeable future very very short’ on his face. But Peter glares at him, and MJ glares at him, and Gwen presses one palm against her forehead.

“Everyone’s going to kill each other within like, another hour,” she says, sounding weirdly gleeful. “This full house thing is _hilarious._ ”

\--

Peter is an only child.  

He has always been an only child, even when he was an only child who was also an orphan, and then an only child who lost his uncle, and then an only child with only one surviving family member.

The house always felt just right for the three of them, however, and he never felt like he really wanted a brother or a sister. Even after Uncle Ben died. It wasn’t like he suddenly wished for a sibling to materialize.

Then Gwen. Then Johnny. Then Bobby.

Mary-Jane, always around. Kitty, never far away.

They’re his friends, except he’s never really had those before. At least, not in a way that involved them in his space, in his home, within the walls that stood between his family and everything else.

But then there was Gwen, with her eccentricities and her sharp wit and her smile and her affection and everything she’s given Aunt May. His home is her home and the traces of her presence, her toothbrush her hairbrush and her clothes, feel familiar now. Mary Jane, who has always been his friend but never _belonged_ in his home like she does now. Never occupied a space here, like she was meant to. Now she does, and she is.

Johnny and Bobby. Interlopers and freeloaders. Vagabonds and troublemakers with nowhere else to go. Crooked grins and uneasy smiles and scorched walls and frozen floors. They fight over the bathroom every morning and Johnny has way too many hair products and Bobby has a weird attitude towards clothing. They’re weird. Peter feels crowded in his own house.

But there’s something empty when they’re not there. When Bobby’s out with the X-men or when Johnny’s gone flying through the sky. Like somehow, they’ve managed to carve a space for themselves already. A space like MJ has, like Gwen has. A space where Aunt May knows what they like best for dinner and what time they usually wake up and what to avoid saying to not make Bobby sullen and Johnny cranky. A space where Gwen and Johnny can snipe at each other and there’s no heat to it, and no flirtation either, and MJ can lean over Bobby’s shoulder and help him with his homework in an easy, relaxed camaraderie.

And Kitty. She’s still got all sorts of edges. Still feels like she’s on the outskirts. Slighted by Peter and resented by Mary Jane. Nearly left behind by Bobby, and in an uneasy state of unknowing with Johnny and Gwen. There’s an awkwardness in the bubble around her, and she knows it.

But there’s a space for her at the dinner table, most days. And a space on the couch where she can squeeze in beside Bobby, knees tucked to her chest. And there’s an offering of peace from MJ and an offering of tentative friendship from Gwen, and a bulldozing of walls of personal space from Johnny, who’s always thought that the best way to get past awkwardness is to bulldoze through it.

And Peter misses her. Her bravery and her obstinateness and her friendship. So he grins at her over his shoulder, across the back of the couch, and highfives her when she fazes through the floor and ties Johnny’s shoelaces together. She grins back.

Getting cursed by some half-wit spellcaster so that they’re all trapped in a house together is nowhere near the worst that could happen. They’re a pack of teenagers, super-powered and quick to temper. They’ve all got a history of bad decisions and bad luck, and bad relationships and bad breakups. They could have all snapped and killed each other. Someone could have gotten torched or frozen or phased into a wall or…webbed up a lot.

But instead, they all crowd on the living room couch and eat their cereal dinner. MJ and Gwen sandwich Peter and Johnny leans against his legs and grins as Gwen threatens to kick him in the face if he tries to set Peter’s shoes on fire again. Kitty sits cross-legged on the table and Bobby leans easily beside her. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Bobby’s got one hand twitching at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to frost either Johnny or Peter. Maybe both.

So, yeah, six hormonal, super-powered, rambunctious teenagers stuck in a house together until whatever curse they’re under gets lifted?

It could _definitely_ be worse.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wish people wrote more ultimate verse spiderman fic. I really loved this set up in the series, and it's too bad that, yknow, certain things happened that cut this adorable found family set up short. :'(


End file.
